


Cloaked in Mystery

by Caedus501



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedus501/pseuds/Caedus501
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi walked contemplatively through the brightly lit halls of the Jedi Temple trying to figure out how he would be able to pull off his next mission for the Council.  Preferably without starting a planetary wide incident.  Again.  Not having Anakin with him this time around would probably help in that respect, but he would miss having the back up.For this mission though, he thought he could put aside the bits of phase one clone armor he had taken to wearing during the war and just don his regular Jedi robes, cloak and all.Of course, that meant he had to find his cloak, which was proving impossible.  A quick inspection of his sparsely appointed quarters had confirmed that he most likely just needed a new one.***In which Obi-Wan goes to visit the Master Tailor to the Jedi in the third year of the Clone Wars and gets a few things regarding Jedi cloaks explained to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about because I had a burning desire to know who the poor schmuck was who had to constantly provide the Jedi with new cloaks and what he thought about their drama queen ways of dropping cloaks all around the galaxy. Then there was a gif of some Star Wars guide book making the rounds on tumblr which pointed out that as of Revenge of the Sith, Obi-Wan was on his sixth cloak since the start of the war. Such information simply could not go to waste. At that point things took on a life of their own.
> 
> I managed to work a bit of actual history in as well, albeit in a disguised form so that it worked in universe (see the end notes for more information). Enjoy!

_Cloaked in Mystery_

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi walked contemplatively through the brightly lit halls of the Jedi Temple trying to figure out how he would be able to pull off his next mission for the Council.  Preferably without starting a planetary wide incident.  Again.  Not having Anakin with him this time around would probably help in that respect, but he would miss having the back up.

For this mission though, he thought he could put aside the bits of phase one clone armor he had taken to wearing during the war and just don his regular Jedi robes, cloak and all.

Of course, that meant he had to find his cloak, which was proving impossible.  A quick inspection of his sparsely appointed quarters had confirmed that he most likely just needed a new one.

Obi-Wan could barely remember the way to the quartermaster’s department in the bowels of the Temple.  The last few times he had needed a new cloak or some new robes one of his fellow Masters had obligingly brought them to him aboard whichever ship or planet he happened to be on.  He had been kept rather busy during this war, there wasn’t always time to make it back to the Temple for a wardrobe change.

After reaching the right area of the lower levels, a droid directed him through two more doorways before he came to a door bearing a plaque that read “Jerontje Vinof – Master Tailor.”

This certainly wasn’t what he remembered from his trips down here when he was a padawan growing out of his robes every few months.  Back then there had been a droid who had scanned his body for measurements and then handed him a stack of clothes that would fit for his next few months of missions with Qui-Gon.

There hadn’t been a well-lit room lined with shelves stuffed full of fabrics of all kinds in muted browns and earth tones.  He could even see a table piled high with what looked like the cured leather sides of various animals.  Shoved in a corner, practically hidden from view, there was just one barrel full of rolls of brightly colored materials ranging from diaphanous shimmersilk to expensive, luxurious wools of the sort Senators often wore.  Not quite in the middle of the room there was a sort of counter that looked like it contained a built in data terminal and a mini holoprojector.

Frankly, it was all a little overwhelming.

Out of nowhere, a tall, lithe, and somewhat weary looking Kiffar male with golden yellow facial tattoos entered the room through a door that had apparently been covered in shelves of fabric.  Instantly the man’s steely gaze zeroed in on the Jedi Master with an intensity that made Obi-Wan almost reach for his lightsaber.

“Master Kenobi,” a craggy voice said with what sounded like annoyance.  “Of course it is.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  “Yes indeed. And you must be Master Tailor Vinof?” he asked, slightly unsure of how to address the oddly hostile Kiffar.

“I must be.”

They stared at each other for several seconds, the silence growing.  Obi-Wan slowly realized that the tailor was not going to make this easy.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he began carefully, “but it seems I am in need of –“

“Another new cloak,” The tailor finished for him as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes.”

The other man braced himself on the counter and eyed him with a look that could almost be called contempt.  Obi-Wan was getting distinctly uncomfortable at this point and was not entirely sure if a new cloak was worth all the trouble.  Perhaps he could find a way to send Anakin to retrieve a cloak for him instead.  Eventually, the glare changed and the tailor closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath.

“Tell me, Master Kenobi, just what do you Jedi _do_ with your cloaks while out on missions?  Do you dramatically throw them off before charging into battle, lightsabers whirling, then leave them lying there, just another casualty of war?  Perhaps you tie them into long ropes to escape from high towers!  Or is it simple negligence when you wake up one morning?”

Obi-Wan felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion.  “Well, I don’t –“ he began, but was cut off again.

“I’ll have you know that this will be your eighteenth cloak since you were first issued one as a padawan and you are now officially cut off for the remainder of the year.  You have reached your allotted quota, so you’ll just have to make do from here on out.”

“How can you possibly know that number off the top of your head?” Obi-Wan asked somewhat miffed.

“I know because your cavalier treatment of my handiwork has been a thorn in my side since you were fifteen and you ripped up your cloak to make a torch.”

The Jedi flinched slightly at the memory.  Even Qui-Gon had given him a stern talking to about that particular idea.  Apparently that’s what _light_ sabers were for.  He had decided not to tell his master that he didn’t exactly have his lightsaber with him at the time as that would have sparked a whole different and much longer lecture that he really hadn't wanted to hear.

“Yes, well, that incident aside, the rest must surely be an exaggeration.”  The tailor’s answering glare was enough to convince Obi-Wan that no hyperbole was involved.  He decided to try reasoning with the tailor and provide some perspective.  “Alright, but if you look at the numbers spread over time, then eighteen cloaks in more than a quarter of a century is not a terrible average.”

“Is that what you think?” the tailor huffed angrily.  “Master Kenobi, most Jedi go through about six cloaks in their entire lifetime.  This will be your sixth in just three years.”

“To be fair, there is a war on!” the Jedi exclaimed.

“Yes, and I have seen what you and the other Jedi serving on the front lines have taken to wearing from day to day,” said the tailor, staring pointedly at Obi-Wan’s armor covered shoulders.  “You hardly wear your cloak these days, which means when you _do_ wear your full robes you’re practically losing one cloak per every other mission!”

It was hardly Obi-Wan’s fault if those were the statistics.  Things just seem to happen and suddenly he’s not wearing his cloak and before he knows it he’s on a ship heading for the next mission.  What was he supposed to do?  It didn’t change the fact that he needed a new one now.

“Does this mean you’re refusing to give me a new cloak?” he asked for clarification.

“No, it means don’t lose your cloak,” the Master Tailor said, annunciating each word separately as though Obi-Wan were a child.  “They don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“Perhaps not, but surely the wool grows on banthas,” Obi-Wan said, hoping to get a smile out of the angry man and ease the tension.

It had the opposite effect.  “Cracking wise, are we, Master Kenobi?”  The tailor’s mouth thinned into a firm line, and one eyebrow arched up over his dark eyes.

“No?” Obi-Wan failed to keep the question mark out of his voice.  “Surely the wool for our cloaks does indeed grow on banthas.”

“Quite, right.  It does indeed.  And just how many banthas have you seen roaming the surface of Coruscant lately?”

“At least two.” Obi-Wan didn’t know where this was going, but it seemed his attempts at levity were making the situation worse. The tailor was emphatically unamused. “At the Wild Life Park, I mean,” Obi-Wan soldiered on anyway.  “On the far side of the residential areas in the Senate District.”

“Two banthas in a zoo are meant to provide enough wool for hundreds of Jedi cloaks, is that what you are suggesting?  Not to mention a great deal of the clothes worn by the billions of inhabitants of this planet."

“Ah, no. I don’t think they are meant to provide any wool at all, in fact.”

"Exactly,” the tailor practically exclaimed in triumph.  “So, Master Kenobi, let’s follow this thought experiment through to its conclusion, shall we?”  Obi-Wan didn’t think he had any choice in the matter, so he nodded his head once.  “If one cannot get wool planetside, where does it come from?”

This didn’t seem too hard.  “It’s imported from offworld.”

“Precisely.  There is an elegant dance of trade goods that skips from system to system depositing what one planet needs and retrieving what they have an abundance of to sell off on another world.  A galactic market full of wondrous, many, and varied items,” the tailor said dreamily, waxing poetic about the galactic economy.  “This is all well and good,” he continued, his voice changing abruptly, “except when there is a war tearing the galaxy apart.”

Finally the Jedi Master was able to see what this whole lecture was about.  “You’re talking about the disrupted trade routes aren’t you?  The blockades and interdictors spread from the Colonies to the Outer Rim and beyond.”

The Kiffar sighed and rubbed a hand over his face and leaned heavily on the counter beside him.  He suddenly looked immensely tired. “Yes,” he said. “I’m referring to the disrupted trade routes.”

Obi-Wan crossed an arm over his chest and stroked his beard pensively with his other hand.  He knew that the war had created some supply shortages across the galaxy, but he didn’t really think it would affect the availability of fabrics, of all things, on Coruscant.

“I can see that you’re close to figuring out my overall point, but let me give you a couple of hints to speed up the process,” the tailor offered after letting Obi-Wan think for a while.  “First, just remember that the majority of the planets that raise banthas for wool and process it are in the outskirts of the Mid Rim and mostly in Outer Rim.  That creates a fairly long supply line as far as these things go, with ample opportunities for the Separatists to cause trouble. Not to mention that many of those planets are currently under Separatist control.

“Second, due to the shortages created by the blockades, a special sub-committee of the Senate has seen fit to release a General Limitation Order that has effectively rationed several resources throughout the Republic.”

This surprised Obi-Wan, mostly because he had no idea that things had come to this point in the Core.  “They’ve rationed _fabric_?” he asked incredulously.

The tailor sighed in exasperation this time.  “Yes, Master Kenobi.  You see, when the Grand Army of the Republic popped into existence almost three years ago, there was suddenly not just millions of white plastoid wearing clone troopers, but also an entire officer corps that needed uniforms.”

“Which means resources had to be diverted from the private sector,” Obi-Wan said, nodding as he started to pick up the thread of causation.  “So rationing compounded with decreased access to raw materials leaves you with—“

“A few Jedi Knights and Masters having to learn to pick up after themselves,” the tailor interrupted.

“I was going to say increased prices and steady demand for what little is left on the market, which includes the wool you need since the Jedi are not technically part of the military and we don’t qualify for special dispensation concerning rationed items,” Obi-Wan responded, trying to be stern with the man.

“Which is just a fancy way of saying the Jedi need to look after their cloaks. We don’t have an unlimited budget or supply of materials.”

Obi-Wan glared at the tailor before asking, “Are you saying that you’re no longer able to make any Jedi cloaks?”

“Oh no, no. Merely that I can only make about forty new cloaks a year for as long as this war continues, which is far fewer than the number of Jedi currently serving the Republic.”

“I see.”  Obi-Wan didn’t see.  Not really.  The whole situation brought up far more questions than it answered, and he still couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation.  Still, he decided to put a couple of his questions to the tailor knowing full well that he risked earning the other man’s ire.  “May I ask why a different material can’t be used for either the uniforms or our cloaks?”

“You may ask,” the tailor said with a mischievous smirk, but did not elaborate.

He was going to make Obi-Wan actually _ask_.  The Jedi Master forced himself to breath and not let the craggy Kiffar get to him.  _There is no ignorance; there is knowledge._ He had to remember that right now.

“Could you please, Master Tailor Vinof, enlighten me as to why only bantha wool will suffice for military uniforms and Jedi cloaks?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” the tailor said with something now approaching a grin on his face, then he shrugged and continued on as if the answer should be obvious.  “For one thing, both Jedi and military tend to be in hot situations.  And I mean that quite literally: blaster fire, exploding ships or droids, any number of circumstances involving fire.  In that sort of heat, a synthetic fiber would just melt right to your skin, and trust me, you do not want to experience that.”

Obi-Wan frowned.  “But by extension the natural fiber would just catch fire.”

“True, but you would have time to put it out whereas the synthetics would fuse to your skin first.”

“Fair enough I suppose.”  Obi-Wan really had no interest in testing the theory either way.  He generally preferred not to be set on fire if he could help it.  Such stunts were best left to Anakin.  Somewhere in the annals of time, he was certain there was evidence of Anakin instructing Ashoka to set fire to something for some almost legitimate reason, probably not her own clothes, but who knew? 

He tried a different tack.  “If you cannot get the fabric, can you find already existing cloaks to purchase?” Obi-Wan asked. To him it seemed a reasonable course of action, even with the rationed fabric.

Apparently he was wildly wrong and this was instead just confirmation for the tailor that Obi-Wan was some kind of heathen.

“A store bought cloak?” The tailor’s eyebrows were disappearing into his hairline, eyes wide in disbelief.  “Next you’ll be asking why droids don’t just make the cloaks.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t foolish enough to say anything out loud to this clearly rhetorical question, but his lips pursed and an eyebrow lifted as if to ask _well why don’t they?_

“Honestly,” grumbled the Kiffar tailor. “Droids? Never.”  Then he went silent for a few moments, absentmindedly reaching out to caress a bolt of light tan colored material on the wall near him.  Obi-Wan didn’t interrupt.  It looked like the Master Tailor was thinking hard.

Eventually the tailor closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, then gave a single firm nod of his head as if to end a private struggle.  Finally he opened his eyes and looked directly at the Jedi Master.

“Come with me Master Kenobi.  I wish you to see something while I fetch your cloak.”  With that the tailor turned and went back through the door he had entered from.  Obi-Wan followed after only a brief hesitation.  He couldn’t deny that he felt an odd curiosity about all this cloak business.

The room behind the door was another surprise. It was inhabited by three people hard at work and several… well, he had to assume they were sewing machines.  A couple of the contraptions didn’t look like any sort of sewing machine he had ever seen before, but there were definitely spools of thread wound delicately through them.  The room also contained two large tables that seemed to have a scattering of tools across them: the biggest scissors Obi-Wan had ever seen, sharp pins, measuring devices of unlikely shapes and lengths, and old fashioned writing utensils of various colors.  In one corner was a different kind of table situated under what looked like a projector of some sort and some kind of laser device that Obi-Wan didn’t recognize.  In the opposite corner was a cluster of padded forms, mostly of humanoid shapes, but others of decidedly different anatomies.

Of the three individuals working, one was a young Kiffar female and the other two were human. One looked to be probably around twenty standard years and the other looked closer to forty.  They barely spared Obi-Wan a glance as he stood somewhat awestruck in the middle of the completely unexpected room.  Instead they focused on running fabric through a nearly silent machine or methodically pushing a needle in and out of a garment in their hands.

Obi-Wan honestly hadn’t been this surprised since he first toured the cloning facility on Kamino.  At least this time he didn’t have to hide his astonishment.

“What is all this?” he asked.

“Our workroom,” the tailor said, as if it should be obvious.  He gestured at the stunned Jedi to keep moving.  “Come on. This way.”

The Master Tailor led Obi-Wan through yet another door at the back of the room.  When the lights flickered on the Jedi Master couldn’t contain his gasp of surprise.

The room was vast and cavernous with high ceilings.  Rows of pipes hung from above and sprouted up from the floor forming racks on which hung hundreds of brown Jedi cloaks.  It was like looking up into a herd of banthas, a very well-groomed herd of banthas.  He turned his head slightly and saw further racks full of tunics, tabards, and trousers in beiges, tans, and creams.  Along the far wall were ordered shelves of labeled boxes of boots in a range of sizes and colors.  He spotted a couple of droids moving between the racks organizing or removing garments and whisking them away, ostensibly to their new owners.

Intellectually, Obi-Wan knew that there were hundreds of Jedi that had to be clothed somehow, but he had never imagined anything like this hiding in the depths of the Temple.  He also didn’t understand why he was being cut off from cloaks when there were clearly plenty just waiting to be claimed.  He lifted an accusing eyebrow at the tailor.

“No, these are not extra cloaks, at least not in the way you’re thinking,” the tailor explained.  “What you’re looking at is one spare cloak at the ready for each living Jedi and Padawan.”

“Oh.”  That put a new spin on the heavily laden racks.  It was actually a comforting sight, that sea of brown.  It was a reminder that the Force and the flame of the Jedi was still burning bright in the galaxy, despite the war.

He followed the tailor as he moved purposely along the rows until he found the aisle he was looking for and turned down it.  The only distinguishing feature this aisle seemed to have was a placard that read “Master A-L.”  Obi-Wan observed the cloaks to either side of him as he walked down the row.

“Why do you have all these just waiting here?” the Jedi asked.

“Because when someone requisitions a new cloak they typically want it immediately, and not in the day or two it would take to make it.  We are merely prepared.”

Obi-Wan nodded and continued to examine the racks, but as he did he found that something about the cloaks made him unsettled, even confused.  Finally he spotted it.

“Wait a minute,” he said to the tailor, “why are all these cloaks so different? This one doesn’t even have a hood!” he said pointing at the offending cloak.

The tailor stopped abruptly and turned, almost causing Obi-Wan to walk right into him.

“Of course, they’re all different, Master Kenobi. What were you expecting?  I told you that I had one cloak per Jedi.”

“I don’t understand,” Obi-Wan said.

“You know, for all the training in observational skills you’re given, you Jedi can be remarkably oblivious from time to time,” the tailor commented sounding annoyed again.

Obi-Wan sighed.  “Do you think you could explain without making me jump through hoops this time?”

“My, my, you Jedi have lost your sense of fun and whimsy since the start of this war, not to mention your patience,” the tailor said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Please, Master Tailor,” implored Obi-Wan.

“Very well then, how do you expect every cloak to be the same when no two Jedi are the same?” the tailor asked stonily.  “How do you expect each cloak to look alike when there are as many species and cultures represented in the Order as there are in the Republic?  How can we standardize something that is an outward representation of how each Jedi perceives of their place in the Order and their connection with the Force? How can you assume, Master Kenobi, that the Jedi are above caring about the image they present to the public every day?”

The tone of challenge in the tailor’s voice immediately prompted Obi-Wan to respond in kind.  He opened his mouth to say something, then paused, and closed it again.  Something about the tirade of questions rang through Obi-Wan’s head. Was the tailor right?  He prepared to reply once more, but then he paused as his eyes traveled up and down the racks matching the cloaks and the name tags hanging by them to the image of each Jedi in his mind.

The exercise was something of a revelation.

He had never really noticed how very different and personalized Jedi robes could be, even when they shared several characteristics of the clothes Obi-Wan himself wore every day.  To start with, not every species had a skeletal structure that was conducive to wearing a hood or a long, floor length garment, and that was before personal preferences were taken into account.  He had previously assumed that the color of his cloak was just whichever shade of brown he happened to be given, but now that he thought about it, his cloaks had always been the same shade of brown as far back as he could remember.  Conversely, he could acutely remember when Anakin had started sporting darker shades when he was around fourteen years old.  Oddly enough, the new color had almost gotten them into a serious amount of trouble during a mission on Commenor.  It never occurred to Obi-Wan that maybe this had been a conscious choice on the part of his apprentice, and willingly communicated to the tailor, or the droids in his employ.

Obi-Wan watched as the tailor carefully removed a cloak from behind a tag with the name “Kenobi, Obi-Wan” printed on it.  Then the Jedi looked carefully at the cloak immediately behind it that was labeled “Koon, Plo.”  Aside from being made of the same material, the two cloaks really looked nothing alike.  Master Koon’s cloak came to a low vee where it clasped in the front and bore two panels that hung down to the floor and mimicked the tabards that usually wrapped over a Jedi’s tunic.  The cloak in the Master Tailor’s hands, Obi-Wan knew, was simple in comparison, with wide sleeves and a neckline that, if it closed, would clasp right between his collar bones.  How had he never noticed the differences before?

The tailor must have seen something change in Obi-Wan’s expression because he began to slowly nod and said, “Yes, Master Kenobi.  You begin to see why it is that we personally build every Jedi cloak.  Each one is unique, even if it is as relatively straight forward as your own.”

“I guess you’re right,” he managed to reply.  Truthfully, he was feeling a bit like he had just gotten shaken up by a gundark.  “It must be very difficult for you to keep all the differences straight.”

“Not at all, we keep very good records and a holo of each Jedi’s cloak on file for reference, along with the pattern.  It also helps us to track the changes any Jedi requests for future cloaks.”

“Changes?” Obi-Wan asked, still astonished.

“Yes, of course,” the tailor said, once again narrowing his eyes at the Jedi.  “For example, did you ever notice the style of cloak young Skywalker was wearing some three to five years ago?”

“I was just thinking about Anakin’s robes, actually,” Obi-Wan said, pleased for once that he seemed to have anticipated the tailor. “I know they were a deeper brown than my own and had a hood similar to mine, but I suppose…” he trailed off. Had there been other differences?  He guessed there must have been or else the tailor wouldn’t have made a point of asking.

“You suppose you don’t remember that it had no sleeves?” the tailor said in a tone that made it clear he was less than impressed. “He came to me and said that they were hampering his movement and always getting in the way, so he asked if there was a way we could make a cloak that looked essentially the same, but without the, and I quote, ‘kriffing sleeves!’”

“It had no sleeves?” Obi-Wan was perplexed.  He had definitely never noticed anything of the sort.  Then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait,” he said, “how did that even work?”

“It was a challenge I can tell you!” the tailor said as he began walking sedately back down the aisle.  “We had to find a way to make the tabard-like panels in the front balance out the weight of the back of the cloak, plus the hood, so that it wouldn’t slip right off his shoulders.  We tried several iterations before we decided to self-line the front sections and sew a few weights into the hem.  That kept everything where it was supposed to be when we eliminated the customary full sleeve.”

“I never knew,” Obi-Wan commented, not completely understanding what the tailor had just told him.

“Of course not.  You Jedi are taught to notice the world around you without thinking so much about yourselves and your few material possessions.  You probably also never noticed that when Skywalker was made a Knight, he asked for a change in the styling of his cloak so that it could be just like yours only in his preferred shade of brown. Sleeves and all,” the tailor said with a small smile playing about his lips.  It made Obi-Wan smile too.  He never knew that Anakin had ever wanted to be like him in any respect.  It was a surprisingly nice thing to hear especially as they had squabbled over so many things in the last few years,

“Master Tailor, you just mentioned that the Jedi are not accustomed to thinking inward, of themselves, but earlier you said that we care greatly about how we present ourselves to the galaxy.  How can both true in your eyes?” asked Obi-Wan.  He felt this would be an important point to clarify.

The tailor took a moment to think and compose his reply as he continued to lead Obi-Wan down a different aisle of cloaks.  “Much in the appearance of the Jedi is steeped in tradition and ancient lore,” he began.  “Everything from the lightsabers you carry to the padawan braid you cut off to the robes you wear means something.  Everything is born out of the fact that the Jedi are both the servants of the galaxy and a very spiritual people. Would you agree thus far, Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan merely nodded his head to show his agreement.

“As a mark of both their service and their spiritual enlightenment, the Jedi of past ages took to wearing simple tunics of homespun cloths and a basic hooded cloak that could serve as a disguise, provide warmth, be good for travel, or any number of useful things.  They did not want to concern themselves with the trappings of contemporary fashion or status symbols, nor did they wish to be encumbered by personal possessions. 

"Over time, however, those simple clothes became a sort of uniform and status symbol of their own.  Now a Jedi is recognized almost anywhere in the galaxy by the tunic and cloak they wear as well as the weapon they carry.  In the last few centuries of the Republic, a Jedi’s raiment has become much more elaborate and, for many, now reflects their personal view of what it means to be a Jedi as well as some of the traditions and values of their native homeworlds.”

Obi-Wan stood quietly at the tailor’s side as he considered this information. He didn’t see any reason to contradict the tailor, but he wasn’t sure he completely agreed with all of it either.  He was certainly correct about being recognized by his attire, however.  Obi-Wan tried to surreptitiously glance down at his own tunic, trousers, and boots, and wondered how exactly this was considered “elaborate.”  He also didn’t think he had gotten a full answer about his question of public image.

“You look as though you are trying not to annoy me with a question, Master Kenobi, but please, it is always better to ask questions,” the tailor encouraged.

“I am trying to decide what about my current garb you would consider ‘elaborate’ and more importantly what it appears to say about me,” Obi-Wan said.  “I must be honest with you Master Tailor, I have never really given my clothes much thought beyond their cleanliness and general fit.”

“And that really says it all, doesn’t it?” the tailor said with a gesture that implied Obi-Wan had answered his own question. Thankfully, he explained further. “You see yourself and the overall role of the Jedi as tools to be used, or rather, to be applied with precision, to sort out the ceaseless string of conflicts that crop up even when the galaxy is at peace.  Your attire, and that of many others who consider themselves Guardians, is therefore simple and utilitarian, very much like that of the Jedi of past millennia, yet they still would have thought even you dressed too extravagantly to be counted among their ranks. The main difference is that your tunics are made from fine blends of natural fibers that cannot rightly be classified as ‘homespun’ by any definition, and they are worn in deliberately placed layers according to rules and traditions you learned as a youngling.”

“Interesting,” the Jedi said, “I have never really looked at it like that before.”  Once again he crossed his arms over his chest as he considered the tailor’s assessment of him.

“Perhaps if you thought of yourself in contrast to another Jedi,” the tailor suggested and gestured to the garments hanging on the rack in front of where they had come to a stop without Obi-Wan even realizing it.  “Take a look at the robes of Master Shaak Ti and tell me what you see.”

Obi-Wan did as requested and took the time to look over the dark robes arrayed before him and tried to see them as a regular citizen might.  There was a finely pleated skirt of a slightly iridescent material that he knew brushed the floor when she wore it.  The cloak was still a brown wool, but it was cut longer in the back and angled upward dramatically as it wrapped around the toward the front.  Along the neckline edge was an extra binding of a beautifully textured, and finely woven golden yellow fabric.  What he knew was missing was a long leather tabard with intricate designs that usually tucked up under her belt and hung down over the skirt.  Taken all together, what did this say about Master Ti as a Jedi?

He decided to work through it out loud.  “Well, the skirt looks very long and full, making it cumbersome to fight in.  The leather piece she wears is probably unyielding in combat as well.  And the sleeves on the cloak look wide enough to get lost in.”  He paused in his observation and glanced at the tailor who was staring back with an expectant look on his face, willing Obi-Wan to continue.  He stroked his beard and thought hard about Shaak Ti and her cumbersome clothing.  “This,” he began again, decisively, “is the attire of someone who prefers negotiation and meditation to conflict and combat.  Someone who would volunteer to oversee the clones’ training on Kamino, thus keeping her off the front lines of the war.  Well, mostly,” he finished.  There was no denying that Master Ti had acquitted herself well when General Grievous, Asajj Ventress, and an army of droids had sought to overpower the clone homeworld and steal the primary donor DNA sample.

For the first time since Obi-Wan had walked through the door bearing the name Jerontje Vinof, the Master Tailor was smiling at the Jedi with genuine pleasure.

“Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Master Kenobi,” he said.  “Master Ti adopted these long skirts and the leather skirt panel a couple of years after she reached Knighthood.  I am sure you are familiar with her not inconsiderable skill with a lightsaber, so when I mentioned the impracticality of such garments she said, ‘If one is always expecting a fight, then one can expect to be always fighting.  How can the flower of peace be allowed to blossom if one must see through a haze of red to find the seed?’”  The tailor shook his head slightly at the memory.  “I don’t know exactly what happened, but something occurred on a mission that changed her whole outlook on the purpose of the Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan understood now what the tailor meant about presenting a specific image to the public.  He needed people to know he meant business when they saw him, so he dressed efficiently and in a way that was easily recognizable.  Master Ti wanted people to know that she fully embraced the unifying Force and the Jedi calling to be keepers of the peace.

“But what about Master Luminara Unduli?” Obi-Wan asked, pointing to the name tag that hung just down the row from where they were standing.  “You can’t tell me that her heavy skirts and leather tabard mean she doesn’t see fit to use her skills in a duel.  I know for a fact that she has worked very hard to increase her flexibility and agility in combat. Not to mention that she and I have served in several campaigns together over the last few years.”

“True enough,” the tailor said with a nod.  “Master Unduli is one of those who chooses to represent the rich cultural heritage of her species through her attire, despite having been raised into the ascetic ways of the Jedi.”

“So all of her opulent clothing is just because she’s proud of being Mirialan?”

“That is just one, rather narrow interpretation.  Different forms of art that represent the Mirialans’ understanding of nature and the Force are everywhere on Mirial.  Even the myriad tattoos that Mirialans bear are an example of this.  Master Unduli, like many Mirialan Jedi before her, wanted to incorporate some of the spirituality of her people into her daily life.  Do you see the floral pattern on the tabard and bracers?” asked the tailor as he pointed at the specified items.  Obi-Wan had noticed the elaborate designs before, but he took the time to really study them now.  “She and I spent a couple of days combing the archives for appropriate examples of Mirialan art that we would be able to duplicate on her robes somehow.  We then spent two days tooling, dying, and finishing the leather by hand, she in a meditative silence and me enjoying the novelty of getting to use a skill I had left long untouched.”

“Does that happen often?  Jedi helping to make their own clothes, I mean?” Obi-Wan asked curiously.

“Almost never,” the tailor said with a wry laugh. “But she wanted the motif she chose to be more than just a pretty decoration.  It was about her connection to the Force and to her people, so she had to take part in the creation of the artwork.”

“Did she help to make this one too?” Obi-Wan asked, pointing to the leatherwork hanging from the rack.

“Unfortunately no.  I asked her if she would like to help create a double so that she would have a replacement should anything happen, but she was called away on a diplomatic mission not long after we finished putting the closures on the bracers.  She authorized me to make the double myself, since she could tell that I understood the significance of the design and the importance of doing it by hand.”  The tailor paused and a small smile tugged at his lips.  “This tabard has been hanging here for over ten years.  In all that time she’s only ever needed to replace one bracer.  She had lost it in some kind of animal attack.  Master Unduli has admittedly lost her cloak at least one time though, and you’ll notice that this fabric is no simple brown wool, so I’m very glad that she doesn’t share your habits.”

Obi-Wan grimaced at the accusation.  “Point taken. And your larger point too,” he said gesturing at the surrounding racks.  “You would never be able to find this variety and attention to detail in store-bought or droid made cloaks.  Nor the care and pride you clearly have in creating something so important to the Jedi.”

“Yes, Master Kenobi, that is it exactly!  The very heart of why my team and I, and four generations of Vinofs before me, do what we do for the Order.”  He carefully held out the cloak in his large hands so that Obi-Wan could slip his arms into it.  For the first time in a long while the Jedi Master felt the full weight of the Jedi cloak settle onto his shoulders.  He was enveloped in a sense of responsibility, tradition, honor, and a feeling of warmth that could almost be called love.

The tailor had that small smile on his face again as he said, “You can feel it in the Force, can you not?” He gestured silently for Obi-Wan to follow him out of the aisle and back toward the workroom they had come from.  “We make each cloak because it _means_ something.  You Jedi know better than most how everyone and everything is connected, which means you would be able to easily feel if your cloak, this outward symbol of the Jedi Order, was made in a sterile factory by droids.  Sometimes it’s good to have a reminder of what you represent and all the people behind you when you’re out gallivanting across the galaxy.”

They had reached the workroom once more and Obi-Wan took it in with a new sense of wonder and appreciation.  Just four people in this organized chaos were responsible for so much that the Jedi relied upon unconsciously.  They did the work with little thanks and nearly no recognition, but the looks of concentration of each of their faces showed Obi-Wan that not one of them would put any less effort into their work because of it.

He watched as the young Kiffar girl, quite probably the Master Tailor’s daughter judging by his earlier speech, tied a careful knot then turned her work over to examine the results.  Her expression was pleased, but the Jedi Master was startled.  He recognized those symbols!

“Those are the three pillars!” He exclaimed.

The young girl glanced quickly at the Master Tailor before turning her attention to Obi-Wan.

“Yes, Master Jedi,” she said.  “We embroider the symbolic representation of the three pillars of the Jedi into each cloak.”

“You do?” Obi-Wan asked, looking to the tailor for confirmation.  “I’ve never seen anything like that on my cloaks.”

“Well you wouldn’t, would you, sir?  It gets folded inside the hem along the front edge.  See?” She showed him how the fabric was carefully folded to conceal the work she had just done and prepared to be stitched in place.

“Then why bother at all?” Obi-Wan inquired, somewhat perplexed.

“Why don’t _you_ tell me the reason, Master Kenobi,” the tailor interjected before the girl could answer.

Obi-Wan should have expected this.  The Master Tailor made nothing easy.

He thought over everything he had learned about the different layers of meaning in each aspect of a Jedi’s robes.  After some reflection he decided that by hand sewing the three pillars – the Force, Knowledge, and Self-discipline – into each cloak they were themselves exhibiting attributes of each pillar.

Once again Obi-Wan was struck by the dedication of the tailor and his assistants, but he managed to provide his reasoning for the tailor’s judgement.

“Doing the hand embroidery creates yet another living connection in the Force which lingers on the cloak.  This in turn shows that you have a great knowledge and respect not just for your own craft, but for the core elements of what grounds a Jedi and gives them their power.  Lastly, it takes discipline to repeatedly undertake a task that you know will go largely unrecognized.  Everything you do shows intent, care, pride and full knowledge of the importance of your work.  You behave as a Jedi should and it resonates through the Force to whomever has the honor of wearing your creations.”

“Very nicely put, Master Kenobi,” the tailor said with an approving nod.

Suddenly an electronic chirping sound erupted into the relative quiet of the workroom.

Obi-Wan looked down to see the comlink embedded into his wrist bracers was blinking.  He pressed the appropriate button and Anakin’s voice instantly filled the room.

“Obi-Wan? Where are you?  I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I’m in the quartermaster’s department with the Master Tailor, Anakin.”

“Oh.” There was a brief pause.  “And you still have all of your limbs attached and in working order?”

Obi-Wan frowned at his wrist, but the Master Tailor just chuckled softly before leaning toward Obi-Wan to answer Anakin himself.

“It was a near thing, Skywalker.  I can’t believe you never warned him.”

“Ah, well.  He had to learn the error of his ways at some point.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Obi-Wan said into the comlink.  He was annoyed that Anakin seemed to have known that the tailor would be less than pleased to see him, and never gave him any hint of it.

“That is the idea, my friend,” Anakin replied cheekily.

“Did you need something?” Obi-Wan asked growing testy.

“Yes.  You’re wanted back in the briefing room.”

Obi-Wan sighed gently at the news.  Never a moment’s rest.  “Alright.  I’ll be there shortly.”  He turned his attention back to the tailor and prepared to take his leave.  “This has been a most instructive visit, Master Tailor, but I’m afraid I am needed elsewhere.”

“Of course.  Thank you for coming to see us yourself for once,” the tailor said with another genuine smile.  “May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi, and please, do take care of that cloak.”

“I will.” Obi-Wan gave a slight bow of his head and turned to go.  As he reached the door that led back out to the fabric stuffed room and the Temple beyond, he stopped and looked back, one last question lingering in his mind.

“Since all of the cloaks are so specific to each Jedi,” he began hesitantly, “what happens when the Jedi dies?”

“Master Kenobi,” the tailor said with immeasurable sadness, “I know you have been to a Jedi funeral.  The shroud that is burned with or without the body of the Jedi is their last cloak.  The last representation of who they were in life.”

“Yes, I thought as much,” Obi-Wan said softly.  “There have been far too many cloaks used as such in these past few years, haven’t there?”  He didn’t need to hear a response from the tailor to know he agreed.  Instead Obi-Wan forced his thoughts and his feet in the direction of the briefing room and pondered what could have possibly happened in the last half-hour that required his immediate presence.

 

 _* Coda_ *

 

Some three weeks and as many missions after he had first made his way down to the tailor’s workroom, Obi-Wan found himself once again marveling at the vast stores of fabric around him.  This time, however, he had his utilitarian brown wool cloak neatly folded over his arm.

 He had taken great pains to make sure it had gotten back to the Temple after the initial mission he actually needed it for had come to an unexpected end.  Naturally, that particular mission had turned out to be far more complicated and dangerous than it had any right to be.  And that was _before_ he had been obliged to escape a small squad of bounty hunters by running full tilt through a “garden” composed entirely of deadly plants.  A good portion of those plants, aside from being highly poisonous, had thorns the size of his fingers.  Suffice it to say neither he nor his cloak made it through unscathed.

When he was finally able to rendezvous with Master Windu aboard his Jedi Cruiser, he miraculously still had his cloak with him.  As soon as he found out that he would be taking his fighter out to Lola Sayu on a rescue mission with Anakin and Ashoka, he handed his lightly shredded cloak to Master Windu with very specific instructions that it get safely back to his quarters in the Temple.  Master Windu had given Obi-Wan a look somewhere between skepticism and understanding and asked, “I take it you’ve been talking to Tailor Vinof?”

“Yes, he… made an impression,” Obi-Wan explained.

“Well, you’re not the first Jedi to get a talking to from the Master Tailor,” Windu said with a mystified shake of his head.  “I’ll do my best to get this back.”

Now that he had a few hours to kill while he waited for updates on the war to come in from all across the galaxy, Obi-Wan had come to the tailor’s domain to see what he could do about rectifying the small tears in his cloak.

Immediately after entering the quietly efficient workroom, the Master Tailor leveled a suspicious glare at the Jedi.

“Master Kenobi,” he greeted Obi-Wan, “I had sincerely hoped after your last visit that I would not be seeing you again quite so soon.”

“Not to worry,” Obi-Wan said, holding up his folded cloak so that it would be clearly visible to the tailor, “I followed instructions and didn’t lose my cloak.”

“That is a refreshing change of pace for you, I must admit,” the tailor said.

Obi-Wan chose to ignore the comment.  “I’ve actually come to ask for some help and some advice.”

“Oh?” The tailor lifted one questioning eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“I managed to rip a few holes in my cloak near the bottom and one on the sleeve, and I was wondering if I could trouble you for a needle and thread so that I could repair the damage.  And, if you happen to have any useful tricks for mending a tear, I would appreciate your passing them on to me as well.”

Obi-Wan could tell that this speech had completely surprised the tailor.  Even his three diligent assistants had paused in their sewing to stare at the Jedi.

“I suppose we could spare some thread and a needle along with some of our time to show you a few things,” said the tailor.  “May I ask why the sudden interest in learning to sew?”

Fortunately, Obi-Wan had prepared a response to this very question as he half expected the tailor to have put up more of a fight about Obi-Wan invading their work space.

“It seems like a useful skill to have,” he said.  “You never know when you might be stranded somewhere for a while and have to make do with what little you have on you.  Knowing how to keep my robes in good repair can only make me better prepared for whatever the future may hold.”

“Hmm, I suppose I can’t argue with that,” the Master Tailor said almost reluctantly, but Obi-Wan could just see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  “Come sit down, Master Kenobi, and I’ll grab you a needle and some appropriate thread.”

**Author's Note:**

> The allusions to rationing mentioned in this story are based on the actions taken by the American government during World War II. (I know the rationing restrictions were more stringent in Great Britain, but I am less familiar with those particular regulations.) If you are interested in how fabric and material rationing affected clothing in America at that time I suggest starting your search with looking up General Limitation Order L-85, which essentially defined the parameters of women's fashion of the period, and General Conservation Order M-73a which did something similar for men. Or you can leave a comment or question and I can help direct you to other resources.
> 
> I also highly suggest getting your hands on a copy of Dressing A Galaxy, a beautiful book that features the costumes of the Prequel Trilogy designed by Trisha Biggar. It contains detailed pictures of each of the costumes referenced in this story and is definitely worth looking through.
> 
> Lastly, the concept and pictorial imagery of the three pillars of the Jedi is taken from the book The Jedi Path edited by Delia Greve.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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